Just a Girl, Standing in Front of a Boy by Lucy-Anne Holmes Page A

horribly bullied at school, but she meets this friend, and together, apparently, or so she tells me, they outwit the bullies and become the cool people at their school. It’s based entirely on my and Philippa’s experiences at school except for the bit where they outwit the bullies and become really cool.
    She still lives with her dad. I don’t blame her for still living with her dad at twenty-seven. Not only is theirs a beautiful house, tall, Victorian, with fireplaces in each room, but Philippa has the whole top floor to herself. And, best of all, Philippa’s dad’s house has a garden, which, as soon as there’s any sign of sun, Philippa and I lie in, partially clothed, clutching a Pimm’s. Philippa’s dad is a legend. He’s the main GP at my surgery – Dr Flemming. He helped me get my job there years ago. I love him to bits.
    He answers the door to me now.
    ‘Jenny! Small cheer and great welcome!’ He smiles. He’s charmingly eccentric is Dr Flemming. He is very clever, he does cryptic crosswords and reads Shakespeare for fun. I don’t know what he’s going on about most of the time. He’s very jolly in a bobbing way. His smiling face always seems to be bouncing in different directions. He’s taller than you’d expect Philippa’s dad to be, but he does have lots of raven hair; you can definitely tell they’re related.
    ‘Hello!’ I give him a hug. I’ve hugged him for years. Strange, as I can’t think when I last hugged my own father.
    ‘Now, then, Jenny, do you think your mother might be able to bear coming to a concert with me?’
    ‘Oh, how nice, I’m sure she would.’
    ‘Well, perhaps you’d ask her for me. Friday night, Mozart by candlelight.’
    ‘How lovely, that sounds right up her street,’ I say. He doesn’t need to know that last night she trundled up the snogging and Jägerbomb footpath.
    No, Mozart by candlelight with nice Dr Flemming sounds like a much more suitable evening for Mother.
    ‘Philippa’s up top,’ Dr Flemming says, walking back to his study.
    I climb to the top of the house.
    ‘Hey,’ I call, knocking on her door. The TV’s on, I hear her turn it down. I poke my head in. She’s still in her pyjamas. Philippa sees absolutely no point in getting dressed unless she has to leave the house.
    ‘How are you feeling?’
    ‘Fine,’ she says flatly. Her arms are crossed tightly against her chest.
    ‘What’s up with you?’
    ‘Nothing,’ she says with a humph.
    ‘Philippa, why have you got the hump?’
    ‘I can’t believe you said yes.’
    ‘You what?’
    ‘I can’t believe you said yes!’
    Philippa is shouting at me. We never shout at each other.
    ‘Is that congratulations?’
    ‘No, it sodding isn’t!’
    ‘Philippa, Jesus, calm down.’
    ‘I can’t calm down! My best friend is making the biggest mistake of her life.’
    ‘But I want to get married.’
    ‘Not to Matt! God, not to Matt. I thought you two were going to split up soon. Not marry each other.’
    ‘What’s wrong with Matt?’
    ‘Everything!’
    ‘Matt’s a good man. He may not be perfect. But I think I’ve done quite well.’
    ‘Do you love him?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Why? Why do you love him?’
    ‘Well.’ I shrug.
    ‘Come on, what do you love about Matt?’
    ‘Well, he’s tall.’
    ‘Oh, well then, forgive me. Now it all makes sense. Now that you’ve explained that life-long commitment is based on height.’
    ‘Wait, you’re not letting me think. He’s handsome.’
    ‘Well, I’ll give you that. I don’t agree, but I’ll give you that. What else?’
    ‘Look, I love him. Course I love him. I’m going to marry him.’
    Woah. Joe King’s face suddenly popped into my head.
    ‘Philippa, course I love him.’
    She sighs and sits on the bed.
    ‘I just…’ She sighs again. ‘Marrying Matt. It never occurred to me.’ She shakes her head and sighs yet again.
    ‘Stop sighing.’
    She sighs, really dramatically this time.
    I make a moaning sound.
    ‘Ah, do I hear the